


Beneath the Skin

by boycott



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Brendol Hux's A+ Parenting, Corporal Punishment, Eventual Smut, F/M, Kylo Ren understands OFC, Learning to Fly, Lies, Older Man/Younger Woman, Physical Abuse, Protective Big Brother Hux, Scars, Secret Relationship, Tags Are Hard, Trust Issues, and OFC understands Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-12 12:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13547331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boycott/pseuds/boycott
Summary: “The Resistance would let me fly.”All it took was six words, corporal punishment, and a thorough interrogation by Supreme Leader himself before Amara Hux was sent to finish her studies on theFinalizer. Rebellious by nature, it is here where Amara can be closely watched to make sure she learns from her mistakes and where she can no longer embarrass her family.Amara dreams of being a solider, but her fate has never been in her own hands.When Kylo Ren learns that General Hux’s younger sister would be living with them on theFinalizeruntil she has completed her tertiary education, he starts to despise the girl before he even meets her. He expects nothing less than a spoiled, ignorant, naive little girl who only says such things for attention.What he doesn’t expect is a quick temper and a resourceful mind. What he sees is a young woman who reminds him too much of his old self.She says she’s loyal, but he knows she’s lying, just like how Ben Solo lied.____semi-au for the artistic liberties i will no doubt be taking.takes place 6-10 months before the force awakens.





	1. They Only Care If You Can Bleed

“Let me go! Let. Me. GO!”

For the second time this month, Mercurial Swift dragged a kicking and biting Amara Hux into Hux Manor. Her two hands tied by rope, per her father’s request. She wasn’t a bounty nor a criminal and therefore shackles weren’t required. Not yet, anyways.

“Amara, you’re only makin’ it harder for yourself-”

“-fuck you!”

Mercurial sighed as he tightened his hold on the screaming girl, stopping for only a second before continuing down the hall towards large, silver ornate doors. Servants and troopers alike ignored the young Hux girl, not even casting a glance in her direction. This was nothing new. Watching the only daughter of Brendol and Jessamine Hux be brought in like this was no longer a spectacle. If anything, it was expected.

“Maybe if you weren’t tryin’ ta run away then it wouldn’t have ta be like this,” he said shrugging. There was nothing he could do. This is what he was getting paid for.

Amara could only shake her head. She watched her feet take every reluctant step. She wasn’t trying to run away. Of all the things she’s done, of all the things she could do, running away was never an option. There was no place in the galaxy where she could hide from the First Order, and she wouldn’t want to anyways. All she wanted was to learn to fly, and the young Mandalorians who were taking shelter on Arkanis for the time being offered her lessons. A few thousands credits, no questions asked. Two hours into her first lesson and there was Mercurial, ready to kill and ready to take Amara home.

As soon as they stopped outside the tall doors, all of the color drained from her face. This is where some people would start crying, but not Amara. Those doors may signify what is to come, but she’ll be damned to allow her father, Mercurial, and the various troopers standing guard to see her cry. Instead, she bared her teeth at the familiar faces and helmets, feeling independent in the moment.

Amara held her breath as she was pushed farther and farther into the room, until she was standing right in front of her father.

He sat behind his desk with his hands folded neatly on top. Her mother stood behind him, hands clasped together in front of her stomach, hidden within her over sized sleeves. They each stared at their daughter, but only one set of eyes made her sweat, made it hard to look them in the eyes.

Brendol Hux.

Anger rolled off of him like a heat wave, zapping the air out of her lungs.

“Thank you for returning my daughter to me. Titus is waiting for you in the lobby with your payment,” with a sharp wave, Brendol dismissed the bounty hunter, his glare never leaving Amara.

For a long time it was silent.

A test.

Amara stood as still as she could. She ignored the pain in her shoulder and the way the rope rubbed her skin raw. Quiet inhales, soft exhales-- until she could no longer take it.

“I didn’t run away, Father!”

Brendol slammed his fist down on his desk so hard his knuckles bled, “Liar!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the high ceiling as he stood up, “I find a payment made for 3,250 credits in MY account. I find you three hours away in the SLUMS, on some ship full of THUGS, and you expect me to believe that you weren’t going to run away? Are you that stupid? DO YOU THINK I’M STUPID, GIRL?!”

Amara closed her eyes, shrinking under her father’s voice. Spit flew from his mouth with each word, the vein in his neck bulging even as he paused to breathe. She’s never seen him this angry. It wasn’t like the time when they caught her in bed with a visiting prince or when she was kicked out of her third boarding school.

This was something entirely different.

Brendol’s voice shook as he spoke, “That would be treason, Amara. I know you know this.”

“I wasn’t...I wasn’t running away,” she whispered lifting her head up high to finally look him in the eye. “I would never betray you like that.”

“Then what, Amara? What were you doing?”

She swallowed thickly, bit her lip, and shook her head. Amara knew how Brendol felt about her dreams of joining the Arkanis Academy, how she wanted to fight in the First Order just like her big brother, but not in the way he did. Amara wanted to be on the front lines. She wanted to be commander of her own ship, feel the heavy weight of a TIE fighter in her hands; she wanted to fly, to explore and to expand for the First Order, but Brendol would never allow it.

“Amara...tell me now. What were you doing on that ship,” Brendol raised a challenging eyebrow at his daughter, expecting a fight and not the answer she gave.

“I paid them to teach me how to fly a ship,” she said sparing a glance at her father beneath her long red hair. She heard her mother sigh and watched as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Honestly, Amara…”

Silently, Brendol walked around his desk and came to stand in front of her. He stared down at her with a sneer as he untied the knot keeping her hands bound. The sound of rope hitting the floor made her sigh in relief. Her wrists were red and raw, but the cool air of the office helped soothe it over. She thought it was over, but it quickly became apparent it wasn’t.

Amara didn’t like the way he started to pace the room. Usually her punishment was being banished to her room for a week or more, doing extra homework to make up for lost time that she still had despite what her father said. A lot of screaming was involved. Sometimes he’d even slap her, but Amara was use to that.

“Father, I just want to learn how to fly. I want to fight! To be of use! I meant no disrespect-”

“BUT YOU DID!” Brendol seemed to reappear right in front of Amara before she could finish blinking, a thick calloused finger pointing right between her eyes. “You do mean disrespect, Amara. How many times do I have to tell you! You will never fight for the First Order. Your place is here! With your mother, where you-”

The vein that popped out in Amara’s neck matched the same one her father had. Her father may scare her, but Amara’s poor impulse control wasn’t afraid.

“I belong right next to Armitage! I belong in the First Order!”

“No. You do not. A woman like you has no place-”

“The Resistance would let me fly! They’d let me join their ranks! General Organa wouldn’t care if I didn’t have a dick between my legs,” she hissed her words out like acid, standing up taller as she challenged her very own father.

The weight of her words were missed as she spoke them. Running away would be treason sure, in some twisted way it could be, but this...this was much more. It was death. There was no way around it.

It wasn’t until she heard her mother gasp and watch her father back down into a calm she couldn’t trust, when Amara realized what she said.

She bowed her head and waited for the punch that never came.

She spent two days locked in her room.

On the third day, two Stormtroopers came for her. They put a black hood over her head. They took a 15 minute shuttle ride to Arkanis Academy, using the private access road made just for Brendol, the Overseer of the Academy.

At dusk, in the middle of the courtyard with all the students and faculty to watch, a shirtless Amara knelt down and let the two Stormtroopers tie rope around her wrists to hold out her arms from a safe distance.

This would be her punishment.

Not the humiliation of being half naked in front of dozens of strangers.

Not the shame she has brought upon her family.

No, her punishment was the man in leather, walking up to her with heavy purposeful steps, with a long whip in his hand. Shiny for now, but soon it will be ruined with her blood.

Amara was an example of many things. An example for what happened to anyone with doubts about the First Order, to those who thought about deserting, to those who disobeyed Brendol. But she was also a perfect example on how to take punishment well; the only noise she made were shallow breaths in between each lashing, she cried silently, clenched her jaw so tightly it would hurt to eat and bit her lip so hard it would need stitches.

It was the only time Brendol Hux was proud of his daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfic that I'm actually posting in a loooong time. I hope it's enjoyed. Kylo Ren is the shit and I have like five more stories I want to write with him and an OFC, but I'm gonna start (and hopefully finish) this one before posting the others. I'm not sure how often I'll be updating the story, but I'm aiming for at least once a week. I'm also not sure how many chapters this story will be, probably somewhere between 10 and 15 because any longer is scary and I do have most of the plot thought out. New characters will be added as they are introduced, or if they somehow manage to get in this story because who can really control their characters. Tags will be added as they come to, if any at all. Tagging is hard.
> 
> For clarification: Amara is 19 and Hux is her half-brother, but neither of them look at it like that. There will be smut, but not for a few chapters and not explicit smut in every chapter.
> 
> Nice things like kudos and comments fuel my motivation and inspiration.
> 
> xoxox  
> boycott


	2. Just A Few More Minutes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a few more minutes...

Even with the antibiotics swimming in her veins and the antiseptic protecting her room, the smell of flayed flesh burned Amara’s nose. The taste of it a sickly one that no amount of brushing can remove. No one has asked if she’d like to see the extent of her injuries now that it has been a few days; Amara doesn’t plan on asking anyone either. She doesn’t need to see it to know how it looks. All she has to do is close her eyes and Amara feels it, feels each nerve of pain traveling through her body and up to her brain, following the crisscross of the lashes like a maze. 

Everything hurts. Brendol is allowing only the lowest dose of pain medication. Four ibuprofen every six to eight hours, usually right around the time a medical droid comes in to flush the wounds with saline.

Amara almost fought him on it. In the end, she didn't have the strength to.

The trauma of it is so deep it hurts to breathe, to think. Sleep comes in waves; only after hours of restless twitching does Amara fall asleep, waking up a few hours later only to wish she could sleep a little longer. The pain doesn’t exist in dreams she can’t remember.

As she lays in bed now, pale arms wrapped tight under her pillow, she hopes her ever eluding sleep comes soon. It’s her only escape right now. Sometimes she can block it all out, stare at the wall until her eyes are as empty as her mind, but not today, not on the fifth day of recovery. There’s something dark hovering over the manor, over the entire planet, and it’s not the endless rain clouds anymore. 

She’s seen only one med-droid today. The halls outside her room are so quiet she wonders if her room is even being guarded still. 

She shifts in bed to watch the door, clenching her teeth through the pain. As long as she moves just right then the burning sensation only lasts a few minutes. There’s a part of her that knows she should be worried about the stillness of everything, but honestly, she couldn’t be more relieved.

Amara would love nothing more than to be left alone-- lock her in her room, leave her a few medkits, and she’ll suffer through the healing process by herself.

It would be better than the cold fingers and pitiful stares.

_Poor girl_ , they think--

_\--they should’ve done worse--_

_\--she’ll never be like her brother--_

_\--this is all because her father doesn’t even love her--_

Amara was meant to be a symbol. Perfect daughter of the perfect First Order family of the perfect galaxy ruled by the perfect leader.

But she was none of that and if she didn’t think so, then there were millions out there who would be happy to remind her.

Her father was one of those people. Her mother silently agreeing as always.

And then there was Armitage…

The thought of her older brother caused her to hug her pillow tighter. She had no way to contact him, but Amara knew that he had to of known what happened by now. He had to of known what she said to their father. It wouldn’t have been something he could be proud of. If it was a punch in the face, or kick in the balls, or wrecking his favorite little shuttle into his favorite whore house then Armitage would already be sitting besides Amara, holding her hand to remind her that she had him and that she would survive this because it was the only thing she could do to hurt Brendol’s pride.

But it’s been five days and only those in charge of her recovery have been walking in and out of her bedroom, stripped bare of all her belongings except for the necessities (necessities chosen by Brendol, not Amara mind you).

Amara held in a sob, her ribs vibrating within her as she smothered it.

Her eyes closed.

She exhaled a slow breath.

Then the door to her bedroom opened with a near silent hiss.

Whatever peace she was feeling in the dark of her room was shattered by Brendol and the two guards in all black as they marched into her room. A holoprojector was floating in the middle of the triangle.

Amara’s eyes flicked between that and her father. Whose face would she see on that projector? Her brother? She almost laughed, barely containing it except for a shake of her shoulders as Brendol stopped in front of her-- close, but not _too_ close. Amara would enjoy seeing her brother too much, something they both knew.

“Sit up,” he said, a sour look twisting up his face.

Amara cast her eyes down, “I can’t.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Sit. Up.”

“I can’t,” she said gritting her teeth. “I need help.”

Brendol took two steps forward and leaned down face to face with his daughter. “It hurts that bad?”

Six seconds passed and Amara finally gave a small nod. Another three seconds and Brendol pulled down the thin blanket keeping her warm to reveal her back; some parts were bandaged, other parts had black ugly stitching; it was still so red and angry; swelling and dripping and scarring.

Brendol gripped Amara’s shoulder with a sneer, “Good.”

With all of his force, Brendol pulled his daughter up, twisting her torso one way as she scrambled to move the rest of her body with him. A high-pitched cry left her throat, tears already stinging her eyes. His grip only tightened.

“Sit up and listen for once, Amara…” Brendol gave her cheek a light slap in warning and then deceptive gentleness tucked her hair behind her ears, adjusted the patient gown for her. Even that caused a wince. When he was finally satisfied, her father cleared his throat and stepped towards the projector. With a single touch, a panel revealed itself-- Brendol’s finger hovered over the green glowing screen and a nervous glance met Amara’s eyes for a single second.

She didn’t even have time to be surprised by the look that crossed her father’s face before the face of Supreme Leader himself simultaneously darkened and lit up the room all at once. Brendol had never seen his daughter so speechless.

_Oh no, oh no, oh no-_ “Supreme Leader,” Amara bowed her head in respect, tensing her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering. No wonder Brendol was so nervous; even if Snoke wasn’t here for him, just being in the same room as the Supreme Leader, a mere projection, was enough to make anyone almost piss themselves.

It was silent for a long time before a crackly rough voice surrounded them all and sent shivers down their spines.

“Do you know why I am here, child?”

A soft breath was exhaled, “Because…”

Amara had no fucking clue why he was here. To kill her? To punish her even further? What could possibly be worse than death? She thought fast of what to say, even daring to glance at her father who offered no support whatsoever. She wasn’t surprised, but what else does one do when being interrogated by Snoke?

“...because of what I’ve said against the First Order?” 

Snoke hummed in thought, the projection of himself raised his hand palm facing up, and Amara felt her head rise in time with his hand. He shook his head no.

“Your brother came to me two days ago. He told me what I already knew. He told me what I know now. Do you know what he asked me?”

Amara shook her head before she found her voice. “To not kill me, Supreme Leader,” came the small, quaking answer.

Death wouldn’t be so bad, she thought. Maybe there was an afterlife, maybe Amara could die and live her dream life, ignorant and free. Maybe she’d be in agony every day, dangled over fire and lost souls, wishing she could die when she already was. Or maybe… maybe there was nothing at all and once she breathed her last breath, she would know nothing, like going to sleep and never waking up without ever knowing. It sounded like paradise when compared to being alive under her father’s thumb.

Snoke chuckled, a disturbing sound that caused everyone’s hair to stand on end. “Death has nothing to do with it, Amara. Your brother believes you have the potential to improve… but not on this planet.”

Brendol looked offended, but didn’t say a word; his fists clenched at his sides said enough. It dawned on Amara that this was just as big of a surprise to him as it was to her. She let go of the breath she was holding and nearly slumped her shoulders.

She wasn’t going to die.

Armitage cared and he knew and he was doing something about that.

“If not Arkanis, then where, Supreme Leader?” Amara asked almost breathlessly. Anywhere was better than here. They could send her to the Outer Rim on some desolate plant for all she cared.

There was another chuckle from Snoke as he heard her thoughts, flowing freely as natural as the Force.

“The Finalizer. A shuttle will be here in two cycles. You will finish your studies. You will behave yourself. You will not interfere,” the projection of Snoke leaned forward, a sneer crossed his mangled face, “If you fail, your brother will not be able to save you. I look forward to watching your progress, Amara Hux.”

Just like that, life was brought back into the room as Snoke ended the conversation. It was easier to breath and to think. It was silent for a long moment before Brendol stepped up to his daughter, red-faced and shaking his head at her. They both knew there was nothing he could do to stop her from leaving, not when the orders came from Snoke himself. 

Amara stopped her smirk just time, “You should be relieved, Father. No longer will I be your burden.”

Brendol growled and squished Amara’s jaw between his fingers, squeezing so tight the bones popped. Amara tasted blood, but she stayed silent, unwilling to give her father the satisfaction of causing her more pain.

With another outraged growl, Brendol released her face and spun on his heel, cape billowing behind him as he and the two guards marched out of the room.

Amara cupped her throbbing face and smiled, small and sad, but a smile nonetheless.

**\--TWO DAYS LATER--**

When the day came to leave her home planet, Amara was expecting her brother and his massive army.

All she got was a citizen class shuttle; one of the exterior panels was a faded blue with a yellow horizontal dash while the rest of the ship was standard grey, and there were multiple satellites on top of it to make up for what it lacked in advanced technology. It would have been more fitting for a refugee, but Amara supposed she didn’t deserve much better from the First Order. 

She stood on the wide open docking bay in the pouring rain, her two suitcases as drenched as she was. Brendol and Jessamine stood behind her under an umbrella held up by a protocol droid, and tried to ignore the fake sniffles her mother produced.

_Just a few more minutes_ , she thought to herself as she tightened her grip on the straps of her backpack, _just a few more minutes..._

The loading ramp began to descend and Amara gathered her two other bags in her hands. She turned half of her body towards her parents, inhaling a deep breath into her lungs. Her mouth parted as if to say something, but her mind was blank and, really, what would she say anyways?

_\--Thanks for the shitty parenting--_

_\--Thanks for all the pain and the tears--_

_\--Thank you mom and dad for taking my childhood away--_

Amara closed her mouth as her gaze flickered between them and then she turned away, completely unprepared for the vision in front of her.

The person standing at the bottom of the ramp, the person taking her away from all of this, who was going to bring her to her brother--

Kylo Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to change the title. I like this one better tbh. 
> 
> Anyways. I wonder how many days it'll take for Kylo and Amara to get back to the Finalizer.
> 
> Nice criticism and nice things are nice :3
> 
> I should also point out that I have no beta so if there are mistakes feel free to point them out. I might change them if they bother me enough. Or I won't :)
> 
> xoxo  
> boycott


	3. Neither Awkward nor Uncomfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It just was.

What Amara knew of Kylo Ren was very little. He was the Jedi Killer and could read minds as if it was second nature. He was Snoke’s attack dog on a very thin leash. His anger was legendary, and now they were going to be traveling companions. _Lovely_.

She wondered if her parents knew that it was he who was coming or if they were just as surprised as her. Amara didn’t care to find out so, without giving them a second glance, she started to walk towards the shuttle. She watched the ground as she walked, wild curls of red peeking out from under the hood of her large green vest that hit her thighs, hiding the black crop top that matched her black leggings. The rain made her hair more frizzy than normal, but over the years Amara found she liked it that way. Untamed red hair, not fancy up-dos and intricate braids. Her own little form of rebellion.

Behind her, Brendol followed. He had indeed expected the Commander and knew that this was the only time he’d be able to apologize for any behavior his daughter would subject Kylo to. This way, if she angered him enough to kill, then maybe he’d make it quick and merciful. A father could only hope.

With only a few feet left, Amara lifted her head up to watch Kylo; his arms were crossed and his legs slightly spread in a defensive position, little drops of rain running down the side of his helmet. He was looking out in front of him, but the moment Amara’s foot touched down on the loading ramp, his helmet tilted her way, looking down at her like a curious giant.

The first thing he noticed? Her dark brown eyes, so unlike her brother’s.

Amara didn’t know what to do, so she simply stood there, one foot on the ramp and the other in a shallow puddle. She gazed up at him, not sure what to expect, but expected something nonetheless. She stared into where his eyes would be and felt his stare in return, both silently studying each other. There wasn’t much to study on her end, but Amara still found herself searching. She realized she could almost stare into that cold mask all day, getting lost in the blackness, no longer having to think or focus on anything else. Nothing else, but the mask and whoever lied behind it. 

Some part of her brain told her she should be scared, to look away before you angered the beast, but all the other parts of her were too exhausted to feel. Amara simply wanted to lie down and watch the stars pass until they reached their destination, and maybe let the black of his helmet swallow her up.

His mechanized voice made her jump, “Wait for me in the cockpit.”

Kylo looked away from her as her father came into view. Before she could hear any exchange of words, Amara nodded and entered the shuttle.

Suddenly, the outside made sense because the interior of the ship was all shiny black with only the best technology credits could buy. It was a disguise, a decoy ship. Had Kylo Ren been traveling before this? It would make sense. The First Order was but a whisper across the galaxy. It would be unwise of Kylo to openly flaunt his prowess; it was neither the time or place and besides, he had his orders from Supreme Leader. And those orders were to not draw attention to himself. 

Amara choked out a burst of laughter- she hasn’t said a word to him, but this is all seemed so _Kylo Ren_. There were a few service droids at various stations, a cleaning one hovering around as it sucked up dust and disinfected the surfaces. There was no crew, nothing to give away that someone was actually using this ship.

With a sigh, Amara let her bags fall onto the floor. It was only clothes and a few beauty items, maybe a book or two she couldn’t leave behind. Amara stepped over them, slipping her backpack to the ground as well, and searched for the cockpit. It wasn’t exactly hard. As soon as Amara found it, she sat in the co-pilot's chair, brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on top. 

The soft pitter-patter of the rain was all that she could hear as she watched her mother and father retreat back inside of the manor. With them, they took a weight so heavy Amara could feel the energy being pulled from her, so agonizing she could see it leaving her body. (It looked like a band of light made of milky stars).

She closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath. She would not cry, not here, not ever, and not because of them.

And then Kylo Ren cleared his throat, a crackle of static leaving his mask. Amara quickly straightened her back and ignored the pain of her healing skin being shifted. Her eyes opened and she only stared out the window.

“Commander Ren,” she greeted, as flat as the expression on her face.

She thought she heard Kylo scoff, but it was hard to make it out with his mask. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he sat down in the pilot’s chair and started to push buttons and flick switches.

She tried to remember the sequences, just to learn a little bit more, even though she had no idea what they were linked to. And then she started to wonder how young Kylo Ren was when he began to learn how to fly. If he was as young as her when she would watch ships coming and going outside of her childhood bedroom, oohing and awing at the way a pilot would gently land or how they would jet off into the sky as fast as light. If he ever use to beg and beg his parents to let him learn, that he was old enough, that he could be strong enough, just like she use to. 

“Miss Hux!”

Amara looked up at him and shrunk back under that dark gaze of his, away from the anger, so clear and loud even under the voice changer. How long had he been saying her name?

“I will not repeat myself again,” he turned back to the controls and the ship started to lift off, “We will not be immediately returning to the _Finalizer_. Supreme Leader ordered a detour in my current mission to retrieve you-”

A detour? Retrieve? Kylo Ren sure knew how to make a girl feel welcomed.

“-and I must see it through before we can return. In two cycles we will arrive at Tatooine. I will only need a day. It will take another two cycles to get to the _Finalizer_ and then you can have a _delightful reunion_ with the General.”

“Do you understand?” he asked, bitter and mocking all rolled into one.

Amara finally turned to look at him, the corner of her mouth lifting up into a tiny scowl.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good. You are dismissed.”

Amara hesitated. She knew she should obey, but she’d never been able to sit in the co-pilot's seat before. Part of her didn’t want to leave, even if she had to sit next to the easily provoked Commander, just to watch him fly, to see how the ship moved under his own strength. Imagining it was her flying; she would do barrel-rolls and weave through asteroids, freedom and adventure right in her hands, like it was that easy to attain.

At the risk of punishment, Amara did her best to sound meek, “May I stay?”

“May you stay?”

She could feel the surprise in his voice and nodded.

Kylo didn’t say anything at first and then cleared his throat again, “You may.”

He punched in some code, pushed a silver lever forward, blasting them out of the thermosphere and away from the gravitational pull of the planet, and ignored her.

Amara wasn’t offended. She had nothing to say to him and Kylo seemed like the silent type anyways.

Underneath his mask, still as a gargoyle on the outside, Kylo didn’t just ignore the girl in the co-pilot's seat, but ignored the tiny smile hidden in the corner of his mouth and ignored the dreams and memories she unknowingly projected out into the Force.

Together, they watched stars and nebulas and planets with their many moons pass by in complete silence that was neither awkward nor uncomfortable. It just was.

And if Kylo Ren took them through a small asteroid belt, it was because he wanted to, and not because of the girl sitting besides him, desperately trying to hide the awe in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amara's style: athleisure and dirty converse. Or you know, the star wars version of that.
> 
> Next five chapters will be the five days Amara and Kylo are together. What can go wrong?
> 
> I wish I could update this story more, but between work, other writing responsibilities, sometimes adult responsibilities and video games it's hard to find the time.
> 
> Love to those who have commented and given me kudos. Nice to see someone is enjoying this story. It's all for you <3
> 
> xoxoxo  
> boycott


End file.
